Mentality
by MoonWallker
Summary: So, only Jazz is stubborn enough to fake craziness just so he could get to know Prowl better.


**Name:** Mentality

**Rating:** PG13

**Characters:** Jazz, Prowl and Blaster

'**Verse:** G1 AU

**Warnings:** None

**Summary:** Jazz 'acts' crazy because he likes Prowl. Or was it the other way around?

**Disclaimer:** I don't own TF or use this for profit

**AN:** For the April Challenge. Hope I managed it ^^ Beta'd by the awesome gracesolo =)

* * *

"Primus," Jazz muttered, "What is that exquisite creature before my optics?"

Blaster just shook his head, "Don't even think about it, mech."

"Too late."

Blaster sighed as Jazz continued to observe a black and white Praxian, currently writing something on a data pad. Jazz had only recently moved hereto Praxus after some personal issues in his home town, Polyhex, and Blaster had made sure Jazz had a safe place to recharge, meaning his apartment.

They were currently at the clinic since Steeljaw needed his firewalls updated. Blaster was a frequent visitor here, taking care of mischievous cassettes meant repairing many dents and other minor injuries. This was the first time he brought Jazz along, wanting to give Jazz a chance to learn his way around the city and at least know where the clinic was in case of emergencies. Blaster expected a lot of things, but his friend ogling a black and white Praxian was not one of them.

"I'm sorry to say this, buddy, but he is one mech not even _you_ have a chance with."

Jazz grinned at him, "Oh, an' why's that?" There was an irresistible pull the taller black and white was emitting; a draw that Jazz couldn't resist, not that he wants to ignore this whisper of possible future bliss.

"That's Prowl. He is one of the most professional employees this clinic has. Plus, he only interacts with his co-workers when it comes to his job." Blaster had heard some of the medics talking about it. Even if Prowl was quite attractive, his personality was something else entirely.

"So he works here?" Jazz admired from afar in the waiting room, watching Prowl work.

"Yeah, he's a psychologist." Blaster shrugged.

"Seriously? He's a shrink?"

"The best actually." Blaster gently petted Steeljaw.

"I'll go an' introduce myself then."

"Mech, don't. You'll be lucky if he even spares you a glance."

"Hey, new town, new home, new luck, right?"

"I don't think-"

"Just enjoy the show, Blaster-mah-mech." And with that, Blaster watched as Jazz's laser-like focus brought him closer to the unsuspecting Praxian. He looked at his cassette.

"I give him two breems, max, 'Jaw." The cassette gave a noise akin to a snort and buried his head under his paws.

Blaster returned to watching his friend. So far so good. Casual conversation – Jazz was master at that. He couldn't help but wince when Prowl didn't even spare Jazz a glance as he said something to the visored mech. It would seem that whatever Prowl had said, left Jazz sputtering like an idiot. The pathetic attempt at flirting was crushed again by something Prowl said. Then the Praxian collected his data pads, stood up and left.

"Told you."

"Nah. Have ya even talked to him? The way he speaks – he can tell ya just what ya want to hear and then crush ya like its nothin'. It was mind blowing."

"So, did he probe your mind or what?"

"What? No, nothing of the sort. He was busy, I was annoying – end of story. Well, that's what _he_ thinks."

Blaster watched suspiciously as a sly smirk appeared on Jazz's face. It would appear that Jazz was taking this as a challenge – which in a way was good, Blaster thought. It was nice to see his friend back on his feet. After what happened in Polyhex to his family, Blaster was glad that Jazz was smiling so much again. And if pursuing a bot that he had one in a million chance with helped keep his mind in the present instead of dwelling in the past that he could not change, then so be it.

Apparently while 'conversing' with Prowl, Jazz had noticed how thorough the psychologist was in his work. After asking some of the other medics in the clinic, it would appear that Prowl truly had a passion for his job. Most of the medics explained that for Prowl, his patients were puzzles, mysteries to solve. And there was no greater mystery than the way a Cybertronians' CPU operated.

It was more than mere simple code and circuits. On the contrary, it was one of the most, if not the most, complex things in their world. The code constantly changed, adapted and shifted. But sometimes glitches appeared. Many were against the idea of simply reprogramming mechs because that caused the loss of the person as a whole. That's where psychologists came in.

It was their job to shift the code without actually manually tweaking it. And if the rumors were true, Prowl was the best in the field. Often he worked with the enforcers, predicting how criminal minds worked or suicide cases. He had a way with his words that was beyond fascinating. Blaster and Jazz were told that when speaking with Prowl, it was like they were exposed before him. Not many enjoyed being so easily looked through, so most bots avoided the Praxian. Not that Prowl minded. He preferred his patients, his puzzles.

* * *

"You barely know the mech, Jazz."

"I know, but Blaster. When I saw him and then when we talked, there was this pull. My circuits buzzed all over."

"You sure that wasn't your EMF?"

Jazz stopped his pacing of the apartment and glared. "I know what an EMF feels like. It was not that. It's like my spark resonance was in perfect sync with him."

"You're exaggerating."

"Am not." Jazz plopped on the couch next to his friend, "I guess this is what they mean about love at first sight."

"Love?"

Jazz snorted, "Of course not love. Not yet at least. If we get to know each other, then maybe..."

"'Get to know each other?' Jazz, you barely talked with him for breem and half!"

The grin Jazz gave him was nothing but wicked.

"Oh, no. No. I know that smirk – it has trouble written all over it." Blaster shuttered his optics and onlined them to look at Jazz. "Tell me what you've got in mind, and please be civil about it."

* * *

_**~ A couple of orns later ~**_

"So you have been hearing voices, correct?" The clipped tone of Prowl was addressing the other black and white mech. Jazz nodded, his circuits buzzing with excitement because Prowl was talking to him.

"Do you want to tell me about them? Do they make you do things?" Prowl asked in a more gentle tone that slightly surprised Jazz.

Before he was accepted as a patient to Prowl, Jazz was given a look over by a medic, just to confirm that it wasn't a glitch with his audios. When the medic gave his all clear, Jazz became Prowl's patient.

"Uhh, not voice_s_, just one. One voice."

Prowl scribbled something on his pad and looked at Jazz, giving his full attention to him, studying even the smallest of movements his body made. Luckily, Jazz was a master at pretend. His previous job required it.

"Go on. No one will judge you or make fun of you."

_'Reassuring little glitch.'_ Jazz thought. Prowl was good. He was making him feel at ease, probing his mind at the same time. Jazz had to be very careful not to slip.

"You can tell me, Meister." Giving a false name was his reassurance that his file wouldn't be touched. But Jazz enjoyed playing games as well. He would pretend to be named Meister while the voice in his head...

"He calls himself Jazz. The fragger."

"And what is this 'Jazz' like? Is he aggressive? Or simply wants to converse with you."

Jazz off-lined his vocalizer for a second. He had come up with a background for Meister but Prowl was asking him about 'Jazz'...

"Well, yes and no." He made himself comfortable in the seat, enjoying the view of Prowl before him. His wings moved from time to time. It was hard not to look at them.

"Jazz is... very smart. Sneaky even. He has a way with his words. He used to be a spy, actually."

Intrigued, Prowl scribbled on his pad and his optics returned to Jazz's frame, taking in the detail.

"A spy, you say."

"Yeah, he worked in Polyhex undercover. He was a simple performer during day, but when night comes, that's when Jazz is the most dangerous. During that time, he spies on whoever he is order to."

"And who gives 'Jazz' his orders?"

Jazz reset his vocalizer. He was actually talking about himself. Well, he dubbed himself as nonexistent, but it was the same deal anyway.

"There were these bad mechs. They threatened his family, said if Jazz didn't do what they wanted, they'll kill his creators. So for a while, Jazz followed their orders – until one day they ordered him to... kill a youngling."

Prowl's stylus paused in midair as he carefully looked at Jazz.

"And did 'Jazz' do it?"

"No."

Prowl's wings relaxed.

"But the mechs killed his family, so Jazz went berserk and killed _them_."

Silence ensured.

"...And by 'Jazz' you mean..."

"I woke up one orn covered from helm to pedals in energon that was not mine. The gang that was using 'Jazz' was gone. I panicked, packed my things, and came here. But I guess you can't run from the past, huh?"

"No, you can't."

"What's going to happen now?" Jazz made sure to make his voice vulnerable.

"We have a lot of work ahead of us. But our main goal here is to get rid of 'Jazz'. Meister, this is _your_ body, only your mind has the right to stay in it."

* * *

So their sessions continued. It was nice. Jazz really enjoyed himself. It was weird, talking about himself and yet, no one knew what he was talking about was really true. He posed as Meister but talked about Jazz, the real 'Jazz'.

In order to make sure Prowl stayed interested in him, Jazz colored his personality, made Miester so interesting not one psychologist could resist a delve in is mind. Meister was a poor merchant from Polyhex and preferred living on the streets, something Prowl found incomprehensible because the smaller black and white had the funds to support himself ("What are you doing Meister?" Prowl asked one orn when the session was held outside. "Move it Prowler, yer blocking my sun." Prowl looked up, noting that Cybertron didn't have any suns but moved aside, scribbling something on his pad.).

Prowl claimed that one of Meister problem was PTSD, Meister/Jazz freaked when Prowl asked him to turn off his sensors. But Jazz freaked because the fear he experienced while doing so was real. So very, very real.

Prowl showed Jazz many pictures and noticed that the smaller black and white bot had a thing for Art and culture, in particular. Meister claimed that 'Jazz' was a singer. It was then that Prowl asked him to try and sing. After a brief hesitation Jazz complied and even though Prowl didn't admit it, the psychologist very much enjoyed the performance.

~00000~

As time passed, Jazz stopped thinking up new ways to impress Prowl (namely, coloring his personally and character a.k.a. Meister so he could keep Prowl's interest). But he didn't touch the description he gave 'Jazz' – a part of him was interested to see what Prowl would say about him. Because everything Jazz has told Prowl about 'Jazz' was **true**.

Jazz was surprised one orn, during their session when Prowl asked him to take a walk. During that time, Prowl observed closely how his body reacted and Jazz was beyond enjoying himself, holding Prowl's undivided attention. Jazz again showed his love for the outdoors, quite enjoying the Crystal Gardens. During that walk, Jazz displayed his flexible body, wanting to impress Prowl – unfortunately, he should have predicted that it would only frighten Prowl (climbing walls and crystals, while doing acrobatic moves made Prowl hold Jazz/Meister's hand until they went back to the clinic, just in case – Jazz _loved_ it.)

~00000~

More time passed. Jazz was Prowl's most frequent patient, both psychologist and patient enjoying the time they spend together. Prowl knew he was breaking regulations by forming an attachment with Meister/Jazz, but the Praxian was sure that this bond was beneficial for his recovery.

Blaster wasn't impressed, at all. He warned Jazz, frequently, that this would not end well and that two sparks will be left hurting. Jazz assured him that he will never do anything that would hurt Prowl. Because his original suspicions were turning out to be true, Jazz was falling in love with Prowl.

In their time spent together, Jazz saw that under the cold exterior, Prowl was a very warm bot that cared for his patients (he's seen the way he talks to them and treats them). Prowl had a good spark and the more time Jazz spent with him, the more he fell in love, the more he hated himself for lying to Prowl.

His worries must have shown (plus Prowl was _that_ good at reading bots) and Prowl asked him multiple times what was wrong. Jazz always left that question unanswered but recently it was affecting his recharge and refueling, he couldn't stop thinking about Prowl.

~00000~

"Meister, when was the last time you recharged?" Prowl asked, his optics looking over the smaller body in subtle worry.

Jazz/Meister grinned, "Nah, it's fine." His smile faded. "I-I gotta tell ya somtin' Prowler."

Over time, Prowl had resigned himself being called by Meister's nicknames. After all, in his job, he was called a variety of nasty names, a little nickname did no harm.

"What has frightened you so much?" Prowl looked at him, confused by the sudden draw back Jazz was experiencing. They were making progress. But now...

"Is it 'Jazz'?"

"Yes and no." Just like their first meeting.

"Has 'Jazz' done something?"

"Yes."

"Something bad?"

"...Yes."

"Come on Meister, work with me here, please." Prowl smiled reassuringly, "What happened?"

Jazz took a deep breath, this was it, "Jazz fell in love." There, he said it.

"Oh." Prowl did not look shocked or disgusted. He looked... intrigued? "With who?"

"…With you."

Silence. Primus, Jazz hated it.

"It's fine, Meister. There is no need to worry." Prowl finally said, understanding showing in his optics. Jazz just stared at him... This was **not** the reaction he was hoping for. Prowl didn't know, he didn't know Jazz was real; otherwise he wouldn't be acting this way.

Jazz stood up to pace in the room. This was more complicated than he thought. And he wouldn't let Blaster's words come true – he wouldn't let two sparks suffer.

"Prowl," Jazz paced, "If... if Jazz was real. If he was real and what you knew about him – his past, his personality – basically everything about him – would you consider giving a relationship with him a chance?" Jazz stopped in front of Prowl, "Please, tell me honestly."

Prowl looked at him, considering. "I ..." Prowl looked away, no words coming to mind, "I would give it a try. I honestly don't know, but I would give it a chance and then see where it takes us." But then he chuckled, "Relax, Meister – 'Jazz' is not real, so there is nothing to worry or consider here."

Oh, Primus. His spark gave a painful clench and something aching to become a sob left his vocalizer. His frame started to tremble and Prowl was instantly leading him to a seat, saying just the right words that calmed his mind, but not his spark. He looked at Prowl.

"Prowl, please know that everything I did, I did it for you." Jazz muttered. At Prowl's confused look, Jazz took a deep intake and told him.

Everything.

* * *

Prowl resisted the urge to sigh tiredly as he headed towards his apartment. And there, just like many previous Orns, sitting on the ground looking very dejected, was none other than Jazz.

"This is your last warning, Jazz." Prowl stressed on the name, still unused to addressing the mech as such. "Leave me alone before I call the Enforcers."

Jazz looked up at him, visor bright but vorns of practice reading mechs told Prowl that the optics behind it shone with fear.

"_Please_, Prowl. You have to give me a chance. You have to. I didn't lie about 'Jazz'. About the real me. Everything you know about him, everything is true. Meister is the one who doesn't exist. I'm begging you to give me just a chance."

"You have some nerve." Prowl glared at him, wings flaring high, "How dare you demand from me a chance when you lied to me from the start. Give me one good reason why I should trust you." This was insane; they were having the same argument orn after orn. Prowl was getting tired of this.

Jazz stood up and tried to dust himself off as he spoke more, "I know, I know, but… Primus damn it, Prowl. Please give me this _one chance _and you will not regret it. All I want is one date, one evening together. You said so yourself that you'd give it a try-"

"No, Jazz." Prowl tried to walk past him but the smaller mech stepped in front of him.

"I swear to you, that after this, I'll never try to contact you again. All I ask in return is this one, ONE, chance." Jazz shook his head, "I'll tell you everything you want to know, but I've already told you everything about 'Jazz' in our sessions." If need be, he would tell Prowl everything about his work as a spy.

Jazz gripped Prowl's arm, staring into his burning optics, praying to Primus to grant him this wish.

Prowl stared at him for a long moment, optics betraying nothing.

"Primus," Prowl muttered and this time Jazz let him walk past, "There _really_ must be something wrong with you going to **all** of that trouble, just to get to know me." He looked back Jazz's defeated expression, "Either that, or _I'm_ the crazy one. Fine, one date. Nothing more."

~00000~

One date. Just one date. Prowl still wonders today how that mech was able to turn his world like that in just one orn. Jazz was the one mech Prowl couldn't read and not because he hid himself behind a visor. That's probably what made him so fascinating to the psychologist. But in the end, it was all worth it. Perhaps they were both crazy but that didn't matter. Not during their bonding night, or the many vorns that followed it. After all, love made you do crazy things, and that was something even _Prowl_ considered an undenying truth.

~The End


End file.
